


Promises

by Steadfxst



Category: Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US), Real News RPF
Genre: Angst, Apologies, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 07:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15310497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steadfxst/pseuds/Steadfxst
Summary: Jake doesn't know what he did to push Jim away, but Jake wants him to come back.





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Concrit and feedback are welcome and appreciated on this one! :)

Jake tells himself that Jim’s not avoiding him, but it certainly feels that way. He must have done _something_ that ticked Jim off and made him not want to talk to him because every time Jim has spoken to him recently, he’s seemed aggravated with him. (Not to mention that he hasn’t been on _The Lead_ in five months…)

Something was wrong, and it was eating away at Jake more than he wanted to admit. His fingers tap on the top of his desk, work abandoned, as he contemplates what to do.

He pulls out his phone.

_Wanna grab dinner tonight?_

He hits send before he can talk himself out of it and prays he doesn’t get left on read. Or worse, that Jim would simply not open the message at all. He replies relatively quickly; five minutes and fifteen seconds, but who’s counting?

_Sure. What time should I come over?_

Oh. Jake almost drops his phone when he reads the message. He—he honestly wasn’t expecting Jim to agree, let alone ask to come over to his house.

_Does seven work?_

_How about eight._

There’s not a question mark, Jake notes. Well, there was no reason why eight o’clock was any worse than seven.

_It’s perfect._

* * *

Jake tries not to put himself into a panic over what he should make for dinner, so he goes for a sure thing: homemade pasta, an organic salad with homemade dressing, and a bottle of red wine. He sets the table with the food, plates, glasses, and silverware at 7:45, and instantly worries about coming across as an overeager housewife.

It was probably too late to worry about that though. He checks his watch again.

7:47.

He shakes his head. He was being silly. This wasn’t a date. They were two friends, two colleagues catching up. It was a perfectly normal thing to do. It might even smooth over this weird rough patch they seem to have entered.

Besides, he tells himself, a real date would have candles in the middle of the table.

* * *

The doorbell rings at 8:18, and Jake hops up from his seat at the table. His heart is pounding, and he has to remind himself not to look too eager considering Jim was almost twenty minutes late to a dinner at a time he himself had requested. Jake grips his phone in his hand, forces himself to count to ten before slowly walking to the front door.

Jake imagines gently admonishing his guest, but when Jim smiles at him, Jake feels his heart squeeze in his chest, and all his harsh words vanish off of his tongue.

“Jim, I’m so glad you were free.”

They briefly hug in the foyer as Jim thanks him, and Jake finds himself wishing it was socially acceptable to hug a guest for a little bit longer. Instead, Jake takes Jim’s coat to hang it up in the hall closet.

“Are those _silver_ candlesticks?” Jim asks in disbelief.

For the record, they were.

* * *

“Do you want another glass?” Jake asks.

The bottle is almost empty. One of them might as well finish it off. And the good thing, too, was that they had had a lovely time together, and Jake felt no need to rush him out. Jake wants him to stay, just for a little while longer.

“Let’s split it,” Jim says.

Jake tops them both off.

They sit in silence for a moment, sipping. Jake tries not to stare at Jim's throat while he drinks, but with alcohol in the picture, it’s harder to remember why he’s not supposed to do that.

“Are you mad at me?”

Jake hears himself as the question. He hadn’t planned on asking him, but now that it’s out there, at least he’ll have an answer.

Jim’s eyes widen, apparently thrown off by the question, and Jake feels strangely proud. Finally the shoe was on the other foot.

“Why would you think I was mad at you, Jake?” he deflects.

Jim doesn’t meet his eye, and Jake tries not to panic about why he suddenly won’t look at him.

“Every time I talk to you lately, you’re just—You’ve been very short with me. And I can't remember the last time we did anything non-work related. If I’ve done something to offend you, I’d rather you just tell me instead of having you freeze me out.”

Jake takes another drink. Jim scrubs a hand over his face and lets out a deep, frustrated sigh.

“Like that. Every time I open my mouth, you huff or you snap at me.”

Jim lets his hand fall.

“It’s the tweets, Jake.”

“The tweets? What tweets?”

“The ones you keep retweeting. The ones about how the White House mistreats me.”

Jake frowns.

“They do mistreat you. They’re trying to illegitimize your work. You—”

“You’re not my boyfriend, Jake,” Jim says forcefully.

Jake closes his mouth, cut off mid-sentence. He opens and closes it a few times, trying to make sure his next sentences clearly explain his actions.

“I was merely trying to defend you. The things they say about you are just patently untrue.”

“It’s embarrassing. And desperate.”

Jake feels his face heat.

“Oh.”

Jim looks away from him again and finishes off the rest of his wine. The silence in the dining room is deafening. Or maybe it’s just the sound of the blood rushing in his ears.

“I should go,” Jim says.

He makes to stand.

“Don’t go,” Jake says. (Begs. He’s begging.) “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

Jim sighs.

“Jake.”

“Please. Stay. Just for a minute.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Let me make it up to you,” Jake says.

Jim stares at him. Jake doesn’t mind. At least he’s not looking away anymore. That’s progress, isn’t it?

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

Jake’s toes curl in his shoes.

Without saying a word, Jim beckons him over to him with his eyes, gazing at him across the table until Jake feels himself standing and walking towards him until the gap between them was closed. Jake straddles him in his chair, and Jim’s hands go to his waist and back, pressing him forward until Jake meets Jim’s mouth in the middle of the space between them.

Jim slips his tongue inside his mouth, and Jake feels his bones turn to liquid. This is all he ever wanted: Jim’s touch, Jim’s attention, Jim’s _approval_. Jake moans.

“Bedroom?” Jim asks.

It was all happening so fast, but Jake was afraid that mentioning that fact would put an end to it altogether. And Jake wanted nothing more than to be forgiven.

“Yeah,” Jake breathes. “It’s this way.”

* * *

“Jake?”

“Mmm?”

“I need to tell you something.”

Jake’s neck arches off the pillow, and he lets out a soft moan. He knows he should be answering Jim, but he can’t make his brain work to formulate a reply. Not with the way Jim was pushing into him and pushing all rational clear thought out the window.

“Jake.”

Jake opens his eyes, tries to focus. The sudden seriousness of Jim’s tone makes Jake want to pay attention.

“Yes? What is it?”

Jim slows his movements, but he doesn’t stop completely. The new pace is maddening. Jake squirms, but Jim holds his hips in place. Jim leans down to mouth at his jaw, and Jake’s lashes flutter.

“I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything. Anything, Jim.”

“No more defending my honor. No more righteous tweets. No more vaguing me on your shows.”

“Jim.”

Jake’s voice breaks.

“No more.”

“ _Jim._ ”

“You have to promise me, Jake.”

The “or else” is left off, but Jake gets the gist. Or else they won’t have casual dinners. Or else they won’t text anymore. Or else they never do this again. Jake licks his lips.

“Okay,” Jake says.

Jim presses in again, hard and sudden. A reminder. Jake gasps.

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll stop. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

Jim kisses him again, loose and open. Jake squeezes his waist between his knees.

“That’s good, Jake. That’s good. You’re doing so good.”

Jim smiles at him then, and Jake feels all the tension he’d been unknowingly holding onto release at once. Jake is relieved when Jim starts moving in earnest again.

Because he can’t lose Jim. He can’t.


End file.
